The Basement
by audreyii-fic
Summary: Three months postBerrisford Agenda, midPilot. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe. MA. Permanent Hiatus.
1. Names

A/N: I'm going all Indigo Girls on this one. That's just the way it's working out. I have no real explanation for it.

Three months post-_Berrisford Agenda_, mid-_Pilot_. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe.

**Names**  
(_The Basement _Chapter One)

_And as the bombshells of my daily fears explode  
I try to trace them to my youth  
--Galileo, Indigo Girls_

It had been nine years, but Max had not forgotten just how much she loathed being trapped in a small space.

_Damn it_. She took a deep breath and tried to lift her body from the cold stone floor of the cell. No luck, though – the muscle relaxants hadn't worn off yet, and she only succeeded in rolling over. Face-first on the concrete wasn't an improvement. _Last time I ever pretend to be a do-gooder,_ she thought savagely.

She'd caved when Lauren looked up at her with big, weepy eyes. She'd been moved to pity. It didn't take a transgenic strategist to see how the scene was going to play – Edgar Sonrisa would call Lauren with a tape of her daughter crying, maybe send her a finger or two. Momma would freak and immediately turn over the evidence. Then Sonrisa would plug them both, and if they were _very_ lucky, their bodies would still be recognizable when they washed in on the tide. So Max intervened. Short work for a revved up girl, really – Bruno Anselmo was not exactly Donald Lydecker.

Which was pretty ironic, since Colonel Lydecker had _also_ been there. Waiting. She'd almost pulled it off – Max had seen him glance at her borrowed firefighter's getup, then look away without comment – but something had obviously clicked. A few hours later, Max handed Sophie over to Lauren, then revved her Ninja's engine and rode off… directly into a Manticore roadblock.

One positive – Lydecker had thought enough of her to assign fifty men to the takedown, and she'd _still_ almost gotten away. But six tasers to the abdomen were hard to shake off. And then the injections.

Max coughed violently, lungs pained. The only light came through the six inch steel-mesh window high on the cell door. When she had regained consciousness, she knew precisely where she was.

At Manticore. In the basement. With the 'nomalies.

Unfortunately, right now, she was too drugged for anything beyond resigned disgust at her predicament. _They could have at least put me on the cot._ "Fuckers," she spat, coughing again, tasting blood.

"No kidding," a voice replied.

_What the hell? _"Who's there?" Were hallucinations a side effect of tranquilizer overdoses? She couldn't remember.

"It's the Easter Bunny," the voice deadpanned. "I'm down the hall. What's your designation?"

"My _name_ is Max." She tried again to struggle to her feet. Still no luck.

"Isn't Max a boy's name?"

"Does this affect you personally somehow?" she snapped, frustrated.

"Jeez, touchy." It was definitely a male voice, adult but relatively young, and somewhat hoarse, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. "Don't you _have_ a designation?"

Max ignored him. _Probably a trick. Send someone down here to play friendly, soften up the captive. Fuck 'em all. _Lying on the floor was getting very, very uncomfortable, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make her body cooperate beyond a hopeless belly-crawl.

"Can't move?" the voice said conversationally, as though he were asking about the weather.

"What, can you see me?" She raised her head, checking for surveillance cameras, but she didn't see anything. _They wouldn't be stupid enough to give me access to anything with an electrical current, anyway._

"No, but I can hear you flop around like a dying fish. Relax. They probably shot your ass full of thiobarbital. It'll wear off in a few hours."

_Know-it-all_. Max continued to wriggle for another few moments, just to spite the voice, then rested her cheek against the concrete, exhausted.

"Let me guess." This guy really didn't know when to shut up, did he? "You're one of the oh-nine-ers."

She closed her eyes. _A nap would feel really good right now, _she thought fuzzily. "Oh-nine-ers?"

"Yeah. The escapees," he said, sounding disgusted. "The traitors."

Max felt she would be offended, if she were able to feel much of anything beyond cold. "What would make you think that?"

"Because," he said, as though it were obvious, "they only put the _real_ fuck-ups down here."

"Like the 'nomalies?"

There was a beat, then a short, rusty laugh. "You mean the genetic anomalies? Nah, they're down the hall aways. Special Operations found a use for them. This is Psy-Ops now, sweetheart. _Long term _Psy-Ops for the serious head cases."

"How long term?" Max tried to curl into a fetal position, to retain a little heat, but only managed to turn onto her side before giving up.

"Well," the voice clucked his tongue, "_I've_ been down here for about eight weeks now, and I fucked up big, but it's not like I tried to _escape_. I've probably got another three or four months to go. You, though, you're going to have to go through total reindoctrination. I'm thinking that's gotta be a year."

"A year?" Max echoed, briefly startled back to awareness.

"At least," he said affably.

"Is there a way out of here?" she asked, trying to stay focused, which was difficult when the walls kept moving.

"Oh, yeah, plenty of ways." The voice dripped sarcasm. "I could waltz right out if I wanted, but I'm really partial to the décor. 'Cold and dank' just speaks to me."

"Smart-aleck," she said. _Asshole_, she thought privately. "Why are you so chatty, anyhow?"

There was a long pause. "Like I said, I've been down here eight weeks. You're the first company I've had. Aside from the Psy-Ops workers. They aren't much for conversation, though."

She stifled a long yawn. "Do you have a name?"

"I have a designation. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"A designation is not a name." Max could feel the world fading away again, but names were important. "I'm calling you Alec."

"Why?"

"Because you need a name," she replied, distant.

"I don't need a name. I have a designation and that's plenty. And I'll even share it with you if you ask nicely." He waited. And waited. "Hello? Uh… Max?"

She was asleep.

* * *

A/N: God help me, I'm going to do a chaptered WIP. You know why they call them WIPs? Because it's like getting beaten with one. My muse is a relentless little whore, so reviews tend to lead to quicker updates. So please review! 


	2. Hair

A/N: Three months post-_Berrisford Agenda_, mid-_Pilot_. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe.

**Hair**  
(_The Basement _Chapter Two)

_Look yourself in the eye before you drown  
--Center Stage, Indigo Girls_

Step, step, step. Turn. Step, step, step. Turn. The cell was exactly eight feet and two-fifths of an inch on each side, except for the north wall, which was eight feet and _three_-fifths of an inch. Step, step, step. Turn. Max didn't know why that was, but it was irritating the hell out of her.

"Must you?" Alec's voice came from one door down, sulky, as it always was after he returned from a session with Psy-Ops.

"Well, it's not like I've got anything else to do," Max shot back.

"Your reprogramming will start soon enough. In the meantime, _stop pacing_. I do _not_ need you clacking all over the place."

"Fine, fine." Max sank to the bed, cross-legged. She wasn't entirely sure about the passing of time, but in the week or so since she'd been captured, Alec had been taken upstairs on four separate occasions. Today, curious and bored, she'd counted the seconds that he was gone -- fourteen thousand, eight hundred and thirty-two seconds, to be precise. A lot of bad things could happen in fourteen thousand, eight hundred and thirty-two seconds, but Alec wasn't sharing.

Max, on the other hand, had been ignored the entire time. _Leave the prisoner in isolation first_, she thought. _Make her more receptive to training_. _Well, it's not going to work. I'm _not _in isolation._

"How's your head?" she asked.

"Feels like there's a reveille being called right behind my eyes," he snapped. "So, the usual. What do you care?"

"I don't," Max said tartly. "I'm a little hard up for entertainment, and talking to you is the most interesting time-passer I can come up with. After counting the hairs on my head, that is."

Getting no response, she lay back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling. She'd been over every square millimeter of the cell, but still, there was no weak point. The door was solid steel. The walls were reinforced concrete. _The best thing to do_, she figured, _is wait until they come_. The highest probability of escape would occur when she was transferred from the basement to Psy-Ops.

Problem was, she sucked at waiting.

"So, how many are there?"

Max blinked. "Huh?"

"Hairs on your head. How many are there?"

"It's just an expression," she said, the corner of her lip twitching. "I don't actually know."

A pause. "So you lied."

"About what?"

"About talking to me. It _is_ more interesting than counting your hairs."

Even though Alec couldn't see her, Max rolled her eyes. "I don't know. Let me try it and then compare the two experiences. I'm sure it'll be less _annoying_, though."

"That'll be hard to prove empirically," he pointed out.

"Well, I'm not submitting the experiment for a dissertation," she said acidly. "We'll just have to settle for the quick and dirty version of the scientific method, if that's all right with you."

"Are they blonde?"

Following Alec's non-sequitors took some practice. "My hairs?"

"No," he said, sarcastic, "your toenails. _Yes_, your hairs."

Max pulled a lock of hair in front of her eyes. _Closer to dirt-colored now. _It'd been a long time since she'd had a shower. "No. Not blonde."

A sigh of disappointment. "Too bad. I like blondes."

"Why? Got a blonde girlfriend?" she replied archly.

She didn't miss the tension in the long pause. "No," he said finally. "Redhead?"

_Hrm. _Max opted to deliberately misunderstand. "Your girlfriend is a redhead?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," Alec snapped, tone darkening. "So _drop it_."

"Fine, fine." _Incident filed in drawer 'Alec', folder 'Interesting Mysteries'_. "I'm a brunette," she supplied as a peace offering.

"You would be." He sounded very tired, all of the sudden.

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm blonde," he said.

Max smirked. "Yeah. I could tell."

If he had a reply to that (and he probably did), he was interrupted by the sound of military-grade boots marching along the hallway. Max fought against the deep, instinctive urge to leap up and snap to attention. Alec, from the sounds of it, didn't fight. "Teacher's pet," she shot at him, as the boots stopped at her door.

"Welcome home, X5-452," a woman's voice said kindly.

"It's Max," Max retorted automatically, bristling.

The woman made an amused little noise. "It's X5-452. But you'll be coming to terms with who you are soon enough."

"Fat chance of that," she spat. "I _know_ who I am."

"No," the woman corrected pleasantly. "You really don't."

Max swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling of dread curling in her stomach. "So who are you, then? The shrink? 'Cause I've got all these problems. Probably left over from a _trauma_ as a child."

"I'm Doctor Elizabeth Renfro," the woman said. "And no, I'm not your psychiatrist. The psychiatrists are waiting upstairs, and it's about time you met them."

The cell door opened, and the sudden, unexpected flood of light assaulted Max's eyes. She kicked out blindly, but in an instant three different pairs of hands on her, holding her down. She gasped as a needle was driven into her neck; a moment later, her muscles went limp.

"Doing all right in there, X5-494?" the woman called. _494? Like 493? _Max thought foggily as she was hauled to her feet.

"Yes, ma'am." Alec was all soldier.

"Keep up the exemplary behavior, and I'm positive I can convince the board to overlook certain – _indiscretions_ – so that you can be back on the field as soon as possible."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"All right, then. Are we ready?" the tall, icy woman – Renfro – asked the guards, each of whom held Max up by an arm. Max struggled weakly.

"Prisoner secure, ma'am."

"Good. Take her upstairs to Examining Room B." Renfro turned and walked away, dismissing them.

As the guards dragged Max in the opposite direction, she turned her head towards the cell door next to hers, trying to catch a glimpse through the window – and saw a fleeting image of a blonde head, trying to do the same.

* * *

A/N: For reasons that I don't entirely understand, I'm keeping each chapter at exactly one thousand words. So if you're wondering why each chapter is so short – that's why.Please review! It feeds the muse!  



	3. Food

A/N: Three months post-_Berrisford Agenda_, mid-_Pilot_. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe.

**Food**  
(_The Basement _Chapter Three)

_Now, I woke up in the middle of a dream  
Scared the world was too much for me  
--World Falls, Indigo Girls_

_State your designation_.

"Hello?"

_How long can an X-5 survive without food or water?_

"Hey!"

_Call me in a week._

"Eyes front, 452!" the voice yelled.

Max sat bolt upright, snapping out of her dream with a jolt. "It's _Max!_" she shouted, drenched in sweat.

"I know," said Alec's voice, "but I figured pissing you off was the easiest way to wake you up. You were screaming."

"It's Max." She tried to pull herself together. _Where am I? In the cell. At Manticore._ "It's Max." Red lasers, gone now. _State your designation. State your designation. State your designation._ "My name is Max."

A pause. "Yeah. We covered that," Alec said.

Two days of laser torture, followed by a week locked in the tank without food or water, had left Max unsure of much of anything. Except her name. "I don't remember where I worked," she said abruptly, head spinning. It had been seven days and three hours since her last meal.

"Right, 'cause _that's_ vitally critical information."

"There were a lot of people," Max murmured. _Deep breaths. Stay calm. Don't panic. They want you to panic._ "I hated my boss. My friends worked there. But I can't remember what I _did_."

"Prostitute?"

"Shut up," she snapped, hating how the shakiness of her voice undermined the sharpness.

A long sigh came from the other cell. "Look, Max," Alec said, the gentlest she'd ever heard him, "_they will make you forget_. That's what they do. They're better at ripping things out of your head than you are at holding on to them. So don't fight it too hard, or they might rip something _else _out of your head in the process."

"Like what?"

"Like your sanity." Alec was matter-of-fact. "And then you'll _really_ be screwed."

_He's trying to convince me to give in. _"How do you know all this stuff?" Max asked suspiciously.

He was silent for so long that she wondered if he'd heard her question. "This isn't my first trip through Psy-Ops," he finally replied.

Max refused to ask any further… although she really wanted to hear more. Three weeks had passed, and she still didn't know anything about the man in the next cell except his designation – and that he was blonde. _And I _will _find out why his number is so close to Ben's_, she vowed to herself. _Later. _For now, she was reluctant to discuss anything about her siblings with someone she wasn't sure she could trust… and Max wasn't at all sure Alec was trustworthy.

But that didn't stop her interest. _I'm bored and alone_, she told herself stubbornly. _It's natural to be a little… intrigued_.

"Hey." She heard him stand up. "Someone's coming."

Max strained her ears, but a wave of dizziness kept her from focusing. In another moment, though, the steps of the approaching guard were obvious.

"Dinner." A plate of mush slid through the tiny slot in the door, dropping a few inches onto the concrete. Max fell on it ravenously. In between noisy slurps, she vaguely heard the clank of a falling tray in the next cell, and then the clicks of the boots walking away, leaving them to their meals.

"I would've thought you'd demand steak and potatoes," Alec said.

She paused, licking her fingers. "Huh?"

"Oh, you know. Life on the outside and all that. You've been spoiled. Yet you're sucking down gruel like the rest of us. You _like_ that stuff?"

"No." The mush was gone, but Max was still starving. "But food is food."

"Now you're getting the hang of it." He sounded amused.

She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. _I shouldn't have eaten. I should've held out. Unless that's what they _want _me to do._ "Besides, life isn't exactly steak and potatoes out there," she said, trying to shake off her confusion.

"Why not?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Well… there was the Pulse." Didn't Manticore tell them about that stuff? "There's a depression and shit. Supposedly, it was all different before that."

"I _know_ that," Alec said dryly. "But steak is still out there. I mean, the Pulse didn't kill all the cows, right?"

"Uh, no."

"So," he pressed, "you could have gotten steak if you wanted it. You have the skills. Unless… wait, you're not a vegetarian, are you?" He sounded horrified.

"No." Maybe it was the cat DNA in her, but vegetarianism… _yuck_. "I could have nicked steaks and stuff, I guess."

"But…" Alec prompted.

Max sighed. "I was trying to fit in."

"_Fit in_?" he said, disbelief coloring his tones. "With _them_?"

"Yes," she replied testily. "Most people don't have steak for dinner. I was trying to _disappear,_ not call attention to myself."

"Oh. Civilian camouflage. I get it."

_He doesn't get it. Not really_. Max found the thought depressing.

"I like cheeseburgers, though," Alec said after a moment.

Another topic shift – something Max was beginning to recognize as Alec's 'tense moment' response. "The mess hall is whipping up cheeseburgers now? Things have changed since I left."

"No." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I _have_ been to the outside world, you know. Solo missions."

"Assassinations," Max corrected sharply.

"Whatever. Anyway, I had a cheeseburger once. They're good."

"Yeah," she said, trying to ignore the hunger pains in her stomach. Gruel wasn't very filling. "I like cheeseburgers, too. I used to get them with Original Cindy after work." Max blinked – and the shadowy images sharpened in her head. "At Jam Pony," she breathed.

"Huh?"

"I work at Jam Pony!" _Take _that_, Renfro!_ "As a bike messenger! Delivering packages!" She could honestly say that she'd never thought of her dead-end wage-slavery with such joy.

"Oh," Alec said. "No wonder you couldn't afford steak."

"Shut up," she said happily. _Jam Pony. Original Cindy. Herbal. Sketchy._ Max could see it all in her mind. _I _will _get out of here._

"Hey, Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Good job." Alec sounded almost… wistful.

Max grinned. "Thanks, Alec." _And I'll get you out of here, too._

* * *

A/N: At the beginning of season two, it's pretty clear that Max is holding on okay, in spite of the reindoctrination – but she was aided greatly by her memories of Logan. Her love for him was something concrete to hold on to. And her anger and guilt over Zack gave a rock-solid reason to fight. Season one Max, though, didn't have either of those, which makes things… very different.

Reviews, please? (big kitten eyes)


	4. Trust

A/N: Three months post-_Berrisford Agenda_, mid-_Pilot_. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe.

**Trust**  
(_The Basement _Chapter Four)

_Manic blood runs thick, my friend  
Are you looking for a clean escape?  
--1 2 3, Indigo Girls_

The face outside her cell window was so huge that she couldn't even really _see_ a face, per se – just an eye, and a lot of hair.

"What are you starin' at?" Max was happy to hear that her voice was still sharp and hostile, because inside, she was quivering like jelly. _Sure, there's a giant monster outside my door. Great. Why not? What's next, Godzilla? _She pressed herself against the far wall.

The eye followed her. "What… you… starin' at?" a low, rough voice repeated hesitantly.

_Huh?_ "I asked you first," Max said, confused.

"Max?" Alec mumbled thickly. He'd been asleep, but now she heard him stirring on his cot. The face outside the window disappeared, leaving the light from the bare hallway bulb to stream back into her cell – and moment later, she heard Alec yelp in surprise. "What the--?"

"Max?" the… whatever… said. _He's looking into Alec's cell,_ Max thought. _For the love of God, Alec, don't do anything stupid._

"Do I _look_ like a girl to you?" She could hear scrambling. "_She's_ Max. You okay?" he called over.

"Yeah," Max replied. "Peachy. Do you know what--?"

"Not a clue."

"Joshua," the creature interjected.

Max blinked. "Uh, no, big fella. He's Alec. And I'm Max. Max and Alec."

The lumbering bulk moved back to her window, and pressed a… nose?... against the steel mesh. "Joshua."

"_Alec_," Alec said crossly. "I've already got one name, I don't need another."

"No, wait." Max relaxed a little, walking forward to look at the nose. "I think _his_ name is Joshua."

The nose moved up and down as Joshua nodded. "Father named me. Father named you, MaxandAlec?"

There was something… disarming about the way Joshua spoke. "Nope. Brother named me," Max said.

"And Max named me," Alec said, sounding unusually irritated. "Not that I _asked_ her to. But she can't seem to mind her own business."

"Shut up."

"Bite me."

"Catfight," Joshua said.

Max furrowed her brow. "What?"

"Cats," Joshua said. He looked into her cell, then walked away – Max heard him take a deep, whuffling sniff next to Alec's door. "MaxandAlec cats. And other. Mostly cats."

"Uh, right." If possible, Alec was even _more_ annoyed. "And what are _you_?"

"First," Joshua said proudly. "Special."

_Um… okay_. "How long have you been down here, Joshua?" Max asked.

"Long time." Joshua sounded faintly sad. "Waiting."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but I think the bus station is actually _upstairs_," Alec said acidly. "Wrong spot, dude."

"Alec, _shut up_."

"MaxandAlec here how long?" Joshua asked, again eyeing her through the window.

"Uh…" Max tried to think. Only Psy-Ops trips and occasional meals broke up the monotony, and it was getting harder and harder to keep track of time. "Five weeks?" she said uncertainly.

Alec made a frustrated noise. "You've been here four weeks and three days," he corrected. "I've been here about twelve weeks."

"Joshua not come over here much." He sounded apologetic. "Too many guards. But I will come more now. Bring food."

Max, however, had other ideas. _Someone free to move around. Someone who knows the layout. _"Joshua," she tried to keep the excitement out of her voice, "can you get us out of here?"

A groan came from Alec's cell.

Joshua didn't seem to understand the question. "Out?" he said, tentative.

"Yes. Out. Can you open this door?"

Joshua hesitated, then shook his head. "No key."

"Well, can you get one?" Max pressed, desperate. "_Please_, Joshua. I have to get out of here." _Maybe this is it. Maybe this is our shot._

Joshua was silent for a long moment. Max held her breath. "I will see," he said finally.

She grinned. "That's great. That's really great. Thanks, Josh."

He nodded shyly, then turned to look down the hallway, cocking his ear to the side. "Have to go now. Check on others. MaxandAlec be careful."

"We will be," Max promised.

Alec waited until Joshua's footsteps faded away before he reacted. "_That's really great. Thanks, Josh_," he mimicked in a falsetto.

"_What_ is your _problem_?" Max said furiously, wishing he was within smacking range.

"Seriously, I can't believe we were even made by the same people," Alec snapped. "Did all those years on the outside damage your brain, or is there _something else_ going on?"

"_Excuse me?_ I haven't seen any bright ideas from _you_ to get us out of here, hotshot," Max said, stung.

"Who says I _want_ to get out of here?"

"Oh, right. I forgot. The _décor_."

Max could hear him pacing in his cell. "They do things like this," Alec ground out. "Tricks."

_Shit. _ "You think this is a Psy-Ops fake out?" Max sank down onto the cot, anger ebbing away. "Why would they do that?"

"Because fucking with our heads is their _job_." He sounded disgusted. "Did you really think it would be that easy? Some random hairy weirdo comes up to your door, offers to find you a key? Hey, maybe Santa Claus will carry you over the perimeter, too!"

"Not _everyone_ is out for themselves, Alec." She didn't believe that, not really, but she was arguing for the sake of arguing now. _Hope is for losers – but fuck, I could use some._

"Yes, they are." Alec's condescending tone put her teeth on edge. "Especially in here."

"Joshua seems like a good guy," Max said stubbornly, trying to ignore the doubt growing in her chest.

"And that's _precisely_ why you shouldn't trust him."

"Should I trust you?" she shot back.

Alec snickered. "Do I seem like a good guy?"

"No. You seem like a jackass."

"Well," he replied, sounding smug, "there you go."

Max did _not_ appreciate how Alec could make an insult like 'jackass' sound like a loving compliment. _Jerk._ "So, do you trust me, then?"

He paused. "No. I don't."

"Why not?" She was mortified by how much his words hurt.

"Because I actually _like_ you," he said simply.

Max didn't have a response for that.

* * *

A/N: Well, of course Joshua would have to make an appearance :)

I'm glad everyone seems to like this so far, in spite of the chapter shortness! It's been very weird, to write so very _deliberately. _It's an entirely new experience, and I'm as curious as the rest of you to see where it goes.

I plan to eat turkey this week, but my muse gets fed with reviews. (innocent look)


	5. Questions

A/N: Three months post-_Berrisford Agenda_, mid-_Pilot_. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe.

**Questions**  
(_The Basement _Chapter Five)

_I'm not ready for the dead to show its face  
Whose angel are you, anyway?  
--Jonas and Ezekial, Indigo Girls_

Max held up one forearm, inspecting it. No question, it was getting thinner. _She_ was getting thinner. Six weeks it had been now, and between the captivity, starvation rations, and Psy-Ops trips, she was beginning to feel like a ghost of her former self. There had been no sign of Joshua, and it was getting harder and harder to hope.

_Duty. Discipline. __Mission. _She shook her head, hard, hair flying around her face.

_Zack. Tinga. Jondy. Ben. Seth. Syl. Krit. Brin._

Not long ago she'd told Alec a story from Jam Pony, and it wasn't until she'd gotten to the part with the Desert Eagles that she'd realized they didn't have Desert Eagles at Jam Pony. She was confusing Outside and Inside.

_State your designation_.

_My name is Max._

Alec had warned she would go crazy if she fought. But destroying her brain was preferable to having it wiped clean.

_I am so tired_.

"Max?"

Alec's voice snapped her out of her increasingly dark thoughts. "Yeah?"

"You're grinding your teeth," he said.

Max blinked. "I am?" Well, that would explain why her jaw hurt. "How do you know?"

"I can hear it."

"Oh." Wow. She needed to pay more attention.

"How old are you?" Alec asked without warning.

_Huh?_ "That's… that's rude," she said faintly. Original Cindy would have laid a smackdown on his ass for saying something like that. "You don't ask a girl her age. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"

"I might've heard it mentioned at some point." His voice was dismissive. "But I'm asking you anyway."

"I'm eighteen." Or so. She'd never known her birthday. "Why?"

"Just curious," he said. "What's your favorite color?"

"Black," Max answered without hesitation. This was a very strange conversation.

"That doesn't surprise me at all." He sounded amused. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Max froze. In the last week or so, Alec had been withdrawn. They'd talked a little, but mostly, he'd stayed silent and sullen in his cell, for reasons that she didn't ask about. Now, all of the sudden, he was being chatty again, asking about her _boyfriend_? Something was off. "What does it matter?" she said, hoping she sounded casual.

"It doesn't," Alec answered quickly. "But if you're talking, you aren't grinding your teeth. Which is an awful sound, by the way."

Okay. Well, that made a kind of sense. Max relaxed… a little. "No. No boyfriend. Just a jerk-off ex or three." She stifled a giggle at the thought of Original Cindy laying into Darren at Crash. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"What's so funny?"

She smiled. "Nothing."

"Uh-huh."

Max made an abrupt decision. _Turnabout is fair play. _"So, does this mean I get to ask _you _questions?"

The sudden tension coming from Alec was almost physical. Seemed he didn't much like personal inquiries, either. "I'm not as interesting as you are."

"I doubt that." There were dozens of questions on her tongue, but one rose to the surface before any of the others. "Your designation is 494, right?"

"Yeah…"

Flutterings of panic tickled her stomach, as they always did when she told anyone anything about her siblings. "I knew someone. 493."

He took a long moment before replying. "We were twinned," Alec said coldly.

Max tried to keep the excitement out of her voice. _Ben's twin._ "You're like him, then?"

"_No,_" he snapped. "I'm not."

_Ooookay_. "So," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "what _are_ you like?"

Another long, tense, empty pause. "Nice try."

What the hell was he talking about? "You lost me."

A short, harsh laugh came from the other cell. "You're good, 452. You're really good. You almost had me going, there."

"Don't call me that," she retorted hollowly, her heart dropping into her shoes. "You want to fill me in on something, Alec?"

"Yeah. I do." His voice was barely controlled, shaking and pained. "_I get it_, okay? So you can knock it off with the sweet and spicy act. And you can go back to that bitch Renfro and tell her that I'm not running. She can quit the whole 'get insight into the patient' mindfuck or whatever she and Psy-Ops have dreamed up. And you can tell her I'm _not_ like 493."

Max was too stunned to speak.

"Look," Alec continued, sounding resigned, "I know you're just following orders. But I _really_ don't need this right now. So just… go away, okay?"

_Why… that…_ "You _stupid_ son of a bitch!" Max exploded furiously.

"What?"

"You think _I'm_ a fucking _Psy-Ops trick?_"

"Uh…"

"What? You think I'm down here in the dark, _every day_, for what? To screw with your head? Are you fucking _kidding me?_"

"Well…"

"You better be fucking _glad_ there's two feet of concrete between us right now, dipshit, because if there wasn't, I would be _kicking your ass!_" she shouted. _Idiot!_

Alec was silent for a long time, which Max was _just fine_ with. '_Nice try_' _my ass,_ she thought, sitting down on the bunk, anger keeping other tumultuous emotions at bay.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, sounding genuinely chagrined. "I thought you knew."

"Knew _what_?" Max snapped.

For the first time, Alec seemed hesitant. "Renfro said… I mean… you're here to keep me off balance. I'm positive. I just… thought you were in on it."

"Well, I'm _not._" Her head spun. _I guess that's why I'm not in isolation, after all. _"I wouldn't work for Manticore if they put a gun to my head and threatened to blow my transgenic brains all over the parade ground. Believe me."

"Yeah," Alec said. Which wasn't exactly a _Yes, I believe you, Max._

She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling suddenly cold. "Why did you talk to me, anyway? If you thought I was a trick?"

Max could hear creaking as he sat on his cot. "Like I said… you're more interesting than I am." She got the impression Alec was trying to get back on her good side.

_Fat chance of that._

* * *

A/N: I know, I know, it's been a long time since an update! Thanksgiving and whatnot. That's life, sadly. 

Poor Max and Alec. Being locked in cells in a dark basement might be good for forming camaraderie, but it doesn't do much for trust, I'm afraid.

Please review! I love reviews :)


	6. Fire

A/N: I'm going all Indigo Girls on this one. That's just the way it's working out. I have no real explanation for it.

Three months post-_Berrisford Agenda_, mid-_Pilot_. Things go a little differently for Max at the beginning of Season One. Alternate Universe.

* * *

**Fire**  
(_The Basement _Chapter Six)

_Are you on fire  
From the years?  
--Kid Fears, Indigo Girls_

She woke up abruptly, a sheen of sweat across her skin and a groan half formed in her throat. _Oh, no._

"Max?" Alec's voice carried from the other cell. "You okay?"

Since Alec had mistaken her for a Psy-Ops plant three weeks ago, she'd been studiously ignoring him, congratulating herself on turning away every offhand comment, every snarky remark, even every concerned inquiry. She'd turned the silent treatment into an art form. She was _not _going to be buddy-buddy with some idiot who thought she would be willing to pull a mind-fuck for Manticore.

Now, though, his soft baritone was washing over her, pulling at her, and her heightened senses could smell him even from here, the smell of a young, fit, healthy man… on the other side of two feet of concrete.

God, life _sucked_.

"Okay, seriously, I know you're still pissed at me, but let it _go_ for thirty seconds. Did they inject you with something upstairs? Maybe I can help."

Max rolled over and buried her face in the mattress. "No. Headache. That's all. Don't talk. Hurts my head."

A short pause. "You're lying."

How did he know that? "Shut _up._"

"No." She imagined a faceless blond shadow crossing his arms petulantly. "Tell me what's wrong."

There was absolutely no reason that his voice should feel like a caress along her arm, a kiss to the back of her neck. Stupid hormones. "No."

"Fine. Then I'll just keep talking, and talking, and talking—"

"You _wouldn't_," Max said, horrified.

"Try me," he replied levelly.

Ignoring him, Max closed her eyes and seriously considered suffocating herself in the foam mattress.

"Fine. You missed out on advanced military history, anyway. Seriously boring stuff. The Athenians had these generals they called _strategos_, and under them were the _taxiarhos_—"

She wouldn't mind being under _him_…

"—but in Sparta they had _polemarchos_, which were essentially the same position, but since Sparta and Athens could never agree on anything they had to have separate names, and under those were the _syntagmatarkhis_—"

She lapped up the way he formed the Greek words, the flawless pronunciation, the way his tongue must be moving against his teeth…

"—which are kind of like colonels, and the cavalry was commanded by _hipparchia_, although the Spartan cavalry could always lick the Athenians without too much effort—"

A heated moan escaped from Max before she could smother it, and Alec stopped speaking abruptly. An awkward silence reigned. _Oh, please_, she begged some unseen deity, _please let him not recognize—_

"Max?"

"Yes?" Casual.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That noise you made."

_Shit_. "What noise?" she said, trying for innocence.

A brief pause… and then, the worst possible thing happened. Alec started laughing. A delighted, amused, belly-deep laugh.

Suicide was clearly the only option. "Fuck off," she snapped. Death by mattress smothering wasn't as honorable as falling on your sword, but _infinitely_ better than this.

"Sorry," he said, still chuckling and obviously _not_ sorry, the bastard. "But… seriously, just _tell_ me next time you're having a wet dream! I'll leave you alone. I swear."

Max felt her face heat up about three hundred degrees – which matched certain other parts of her body.

When she didn't respond, Alec sighed. "Okay, okay. Really, I'm sorry. I'm a jerk. Truce?"

"I was _not_ having a wet dream," she said stiffly – and truthfully, for that matter.

"Whatever you say," he responded, a smile in his voice.

One day, the two of them would meet without concrete walls between them. She and Alec would stand face to face. And on that day, Max promised herself, she would grab him by the throat and throttle him until he was dead. _Then_ she'd commit suicide.

Of course, she'd have to touch him to accomplish that. Touching him met with approval from certain quarters.

"So…" Alec said, in the tones of one casting around for a safe subject. "I wonder if Joshua's ever going to come back. You know, for your Great Escape."

"Seriously, shut up." She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice, then tried to convince herself she was succeeding. "Just… shut up."

He was silent for a minute, and she could tell she'd hurt his feelings. "Fine," he snapped. "Be bitchy. You're not the only one hard up, you know. I've been down here a _lot_ longer than you have. But you don't hear _me_ complaining—"

"Are you _clinically incapable_ of being silent?" Max exploded. Forget Psy-Ops, _Alec_ was going to drive her to the brink of insanity. "If you can't do something useful with your mouth, than fucking _shut it_!"

Breathing heavily, it took her a full thirty seconds to realize what she'd just said.

"_Something useful_?" Alec's voice had dropped an octave. "Like what?"

Oh, hell. "I… uh…"

"No, what? What were you thinking, Max?"

She cast around for something snarky to say. "It's not nice to tease a girl in heat, you know."

A beat, then… "Huh?"

"What you're doing. It's mean. Very, very mean," Max elaborated. "So don't. What part of that are you not getting?"

"Uh… the part with the you being in 'heat'. You're in heat?"

Max sighed, resigned. "Yeah."

"You… go into heat?" Alec seemed to be having a hard time with this new piece of information.

"Yeah." _Great_. _Even in Manticore I'm the freaky one._ "I guess no one else here does?"

"Uh… no."

Of course. "Figures."

"Is there anything I can do?" She could almost _hear_ the wince that followed that statement. "I mean, uh…"

Max groaned. "I'm not going to _die, _okay?" Even if it felt like it sometimes. "I'm just going to be really, really horny for a couple of days, and then it'll be over. So just… don't bug me, and don't ever bring any of this up again. Ever."

"Oh. Um… okay."

"Okay." She rolled onto her side, faced the cold concrete blocks, and tried to think about _anything _except the man on the other side of them.

* * *

A/N: Oh my God, I _suck_. There is no excuse for my neglect, none… all I can offer in my defense is, 19 credits in six months kind of sucked my brain out. Nonetheless, I've got a bit of a space before the next semester starts, and I am _going to finish this fic by the end of August_. If I don't, feel free to do horrible, horrible things to me. 

Most heat fics tend to assume that the heat event is common to all X-5 females, or at least not uncommon (I took this position in The Carpe Felis Series, for example). In retrospect, however, I think that this may actually be incorrect. Specifically, here, I refer to Alec and Max's canon meeting – wherein they're supposed to, for the good of the program, have sex every night until she gets pregnant. Now, if it was common knowledge that even some X-5s go into heat (and presumably, become fertile), why not wait until that time, rather than force Max and Alec to have continually fruitless (if awesome) sex? It could be played as a mindfuck, I suppose, away to take away Max's dignity… but I think that was just a side bonus (especially if they could have induced heat for her, probably not something outside Manticore's capabilities). We _do_ know that not all X-5s have the exact same DNA mix, so I think it's therefore safe to presume that Max is the only one who goes into heat, and Manticore doesn't know about it. And, of course, is Max is the only one who goes into heat, it's entirely possible that X-5 males don't react with reciprocal biological drives. So… it would be entirely possible that Alec would have no idea what was going on, and thus behave like a complete ass.

If there's anyone still reading this (and I wouldn't blame you if you've moved on to greener pastures), please review!


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